On the night of October 31, 1970, at the Balan cemetery, darkness enveloped the landscape, only disturbed by the faint, flickering glow of the moon emerging from the clouds. The graves, standing like silent sentinels, seemed to watch over the cracked and desiccated ground, neglected for years.
Henry cautiously made his way through this field of tombstones, his steps barely echoing on the arid ground. The cold night breeze whispered softly through the skeletal branches of the surrounding trees, adding an eerie ambiance to this already sinister scene.
His eyes scanned the darkness, seeking landmarks among the silhouettes of mausoleums and tomb crosses. The silence was almost tangible, only occasionally interrupted by the rustle of dead leaves beneath his feet. Shadows danced around him, creating ghostly illusions in his tension-filled mind. The biting cold seemed to penetrate to his bones, but Henry did not slow down. His objective was clear, even if the path to it was fraught with uncertainties and dangers.
With each step, he felt the weight of the history of this place, the echoes of past lives seeming to whisper through the graves. But despite the darkness of the night and the oppressive solitude, Henry continued to advance, determined to reach his goal, whatever it may be.
- God be with you, I’m he murmured hoarsely.
The flickering lantern light cast imaginary shadows on the decrepit tombs, creating a gloomy and oppressive atmosphere. The torch flames danced with trembling intensity, briefly illuminating the outlines of tombstones before fading back into darkness, leaving behind a sense of mystery and apprehension.
With each flicker of light, the shapes of crosses and mausoleums seemed to come to life, twisting and contorting into grotesque poses. The silence was heavy, only broken by the faint crackling of flames and the whisper of wind blowing through the bare branches of the surrounding trees. An electric tension seemed to permeate the air, making each of Henry's steps heavier, each beat of his heart louder.
- What compels me to undertake such a mad adventure ? he wondered deeply.
In this oppressive darkness, the boundary between reality and imagination seemed to blur, and Henry found himself immersed in a world of superstitions and ancestral fears. Every crack under his feet seemed to resonate like an echo of tormented souls resting in the darkness. Every noise seemed to amplify the invisible presence that enveloped the cemetery, conjuring up images of ghosts wandering among the graves.
Despite the fear gripping his heart, Henry pressed on with fierce determination, resolved to uncover the secrets buried in the darkness. His breath, interrupted by emotion and the real tension of the night, mingled with the sepulchral silence that surrounded him. His inhalation was heavy with unbearable weight, as if the air itself was filled with the secrets and torments buried beneath the earth's surface. His exhalation released some of that tension, but also seemed to awaken echoes of the lamentations of the departed, forgotten for so long.
Despite the suffocating solitude that surrounded him, Henry felt enveloped by an invisible presence, as if the souls of the dead were there, silent and watchful, observing each of his movements with icy intensity. And yet, even in this sea of silence and darkness, he continued to advance, guided by fierce determination and insatiable curiosity, ready to confront the darkest mysteries of the night.
The beating of his heart resonated in his ears, like the inexorable countdown to an inevitable event. Only the braying of the mule broke the silence of this eerie place. Its shrill cry pierced the darkness of the night, echoing between the decrepit graves and the abandoned mausoleums.
- Josephine, accompany me in this moment of solitude. I do all this for our daughter, he murmured with determination.
As the mule's braying faded into the darkness, it left behind a fleeting sense of relief, breaking the sepulchral silence that enveloped the Balan cemetery. But even in this brief moment of respite, the oppression of the gloomy atmosphere persisted, like an indelible shadow pervading the souls of those who dared to venture into this cursed place.
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BLOODY CITY
Historical Fiction"Balan" takes us into the story of Henry Lemoine, a widower grieving for his daughter, who finds himself unwittingly drawn into a ritual with frightening ramifications. As he struggles to cope with his pain, he is plunged into a world where magic an...
